I Bet You(21)

He sets the glass down on the counter and takes three huge breaths before facing me.

His expression is conflicted, a range of emotions flitting across his chiseled features. I can’t read them, and I suspect he doesn’t want me to.

I’m not sure what’s going on. I shake my head. “I’m sorry if I went too far. I’m just comfortable with you. It’s like we have this easiness when we’re together—”

“No, stop. This isn’t your fault.” His voice is husky.

I ease over to my sucker drawer and pull one out. I’m so fast, I have the wrapper off and the candy in my mouth in three seconds. I ignore the fact that my hands are shaking. “Want to tell me what’s going on then?”

He dips his head and rakes his hands through his hair. “Fuck. Red.” He says my nickname like it’s torturing him.

“What’s wrong?” I’m a little shrill now.

He sticks his hands in his pockets, looking unsure as he glances around the room. Anywhere except at me. “I shouldn’t be here.”

My jaw tightens. I enjoy him being here.

He scrubs at his jaw. “I just—don’t need a distraction right now. I have to keep my head in the game.”

“Why is me being a virgin a distraction to you?”

He groans. “It’s not—you are.” He waves his hands at me. “The whole vibe you have.”

“Me?” I walk closer, being tentative because he looks like he might bolt at any moment. “What do you mean?”

He tugs on the ends of his hair, as if he’s debating. “I’m into you, okay? I think about you a lot. Something about that kiss…” He groans. “I think about kissing you, fucking you—then fucking you some more.”

My heart roars like a jet plane ready for takeoff. It’s so loud I’m sure he can hear it. I swallow. “Me? A girl who’s never seen an actual peen except on Tumbler?”

He nods, his eyes finding mine. His are low and heavy. “You. And you’re into me, Red. I already know you are. I see it when we have our little stare-offs. I sure as hell saw it out there when we talked about third base.” He looks down at me. “Your pupils are fucking dilated, babe. You’re hot for me. Put that with how I feel…and it’s dangerous.”

I sputter. He isn’t wrong, but…

He gives me a hard look. “Tell me, did you go to lunch with Connor?”

I recall our conversation at Sugar’s when Connor texted me. “No, I had too much to do. Why? What are you saying?”

He glares at me. “You know what I’m saying. Do you really want him?”

I don’t say a word. I’m afraid of revealing too much.

He lets out a heavy exhale. “I haven’t had sex with anyone since last semester—since all that shit happened. It’s the biggest dry spell I’ve ever had since I was a teenager.”

Oh.

“Four months,” he tells me.

“Is it because you can’t get it up?”

He throws back his head and laughs and then sobers. “Fuck no. I’m hard as nails right now. For you.”

I toss a glance down at his pants, and yep, there it is. My body gets hot.

“I just…I’ve been trying to focus on doing everything right with football…until you.” His ocean-colored eyes swirl with emotion. “And, dammit, I don’t want to hurt you. You’re a nice girl—a virgin, even—and I don’t know how the hell to deal with—”

“I don’t want to be hurt either, Ryker.” My chest feels heavy, as if someone has poured concrete on it.

“I won’t let it get that far, Red. We’re friends, and that’s something.” I watch as he seems to gather himself, shutting the cabinet door he left open and pushing his glass back from the edge of the counter. His eyes find mine. “It’s late. I need to go.”

I frown. “You’re leaving after that little bomb? Now?”

He gives me a curt nod, his jaw grinding as if he’s keeping words from coming out. “Goodbye, Red.”

And then he’s walking down the hall and opening my door and slipping into the night.

I’m rooted to the floor. I realize he didn’t even ask to see my journal when he won the bet.

But that doesn’t matter.

My breath catches as the truth hits me.

Ryker Voss hasn’t been with a girl in months, and I’m the one he wants.

But he’s afraid.

I am too.

I don’t need a quarterback fucking up my life.

Tangled emotions rise up, and I suck in a shuddering breath. No matter what I tell myself, he’s stealing my heart, bit by bit, and it’s going to take everything I have to resist falling.





The next day, I hop in my car and cruise to the Chi Omega house. Now that I have Ryker and Connor coming to the party, I signed up via email to help with the planning committee.

I park by the curb and waltz inside, putting my purse on the pink high-backed Queen Anne style armchair next to the door. My eyes take in the oak paneling, medallion wallpaper, and Victorian furnishings.

This place needs a Property Brothers makeover, but it’s the same one my mom pledged. My gaze lingers on the chair where I just dumped my purse. I’ve seen pictures of that very piece of furniture in my mom’s albums, and it makes me feel close to her. She was here…just like I am.

I hear crying as I walk down the hall. The sound comes from the common area where we have our meetings. Usually those doors are open, but today they’re closed.

I tap lightly on the wood. “Hello?”

When I don’t get a reply, I try the door, but it’s locked.

I chalk it up to sorority house drama when Keri, one of the pledges, appears next to me.

“It’s Margo,” she whispers furtively.

I frown. “Our president?”

She nods. “She’s been in there for half an hour. We were talking about the theme for the party, and she just ran out of the meeting.”

I scratch my head. Margo’s the kind of girl who eats metal shavings for breakfast and spits them at girls she doesn’t like afterward. She never cries.

Keri shrugs. “The planning committee chairperson said we’d just proceed without her.”

“I wouldn’t count her out yet,” I say then nod my head toward the room past the kitchen, a sunroom where we have a copy machine, a couple of laptops, and a bulletin board. “Why don’t you head back to the meeting, and I’ll meet you there.”

Keri wavers. “They sent me back here to report on how she is—”

“Tell them she’s fine and will be there in a minute.”

Pledges. Margo and I may not be best friends, but we’ve been together for three years, and no freshman pledge is going to be talking about her and why she’s crying. She hasn’t been here long enough.

She reads my face and scurries off.

I tap on the door again. “Margo. It’s me, Penelope. Let me in.”

“Go away.”

Her voice is wobbly, and I sigh. “As soon as you open the door.”

I hear sniffling and guilt brushes over me.

“Open the door or I’m going to go get a hairpin and pick the lock, and you know, it might just mess up these old antique doors. I know how much pride you take in our house—”

The door flings open, and my mouth gapes at what I see. The normally coiffed and cool Margo is a mess with smudged mascara and stray hairs poking out from under her headband. Even her clothes are askew, as if she’s been lying down. My eyes take in a fuzzy blanket draped over the couch in the back along with a pile of potato chip bags and candy bar wrappers.

“Why do you care?” she snaps.

“You’re a person, Margo. I care.”

She shrugs and flips around then takes a seat on one of the couches in the room. I follow her inside and shut the door, taking the seat next to her as I reach over and grab a wad of tissues off the cherry coffee table. I pass them over.

“Is this because I invited Ryker?”

She takes my offered Kleenex and dabs at her hazel eyes, the green in them more prominent when they’re wet.

She tugs her navy cardigan around her shoulders. “You stole him from me.”

I snort. “You embarrassed me in front of our whole sorority. Like you really liked him anyway?”

“God, no.” She holds a hand to her chest as if the idea will give her a heart attack.

I smirk. “Exactly. I know your type. Wasn’t your ex some kind of uppity Mayflower descendent?”

“His name was Kyle. And yes.” She clams up, a stoniness taking over her expression.

I nod, recalling the details. “And you caught him with a Theta. Sasha? She’s their president, right? And you wanted Ryker on your arm so everyone will see him and it will get back to your ex…” My words drift off. “Am I close?”

She wipes her nose. “Guess you really are the genius your dad says you are.” Her words are brittle.

I frown. “You’re jealous of me and my dad?”

She shrugs. “You have everything, Penelope.”

I give her an incredulous look. “My mom is dead. I’m separated from her forever.” My voice grows louder. “Your mom is alive and well—and married to my dad.”

Margo swallows and looks away from me, shaking her head. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” She looks down. “You’re all he talks about, you know. How smart and talented you are.”